


As long as I can breathe

by banshee_in_the_dark



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Pack, Panic Attacks, Romance, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 03:00:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1712516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/banshee_in_the_dark/pseuds/banshee_in_the_dark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia has a panic attack. Stiles is there for her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As long as I can breathe

She claws at her ears in an effort to keep the noise away. There are words she can’t quite decipher, but the tone is spiteful, and so is the laughter. She needs not close her eyes to shut out the room around her. Everything beyond her vision is dissolved by her tears. It’s a blur. Something white. Something green. Something brown. They all mix together, around dark, flashing spots that dance before her, blinding her.

She can’t tell what’s real and what’s not. There’s the cold tile floor under her, she can feel it with her hands and the back of her bare thighs, but there’s also a string choking her, and no matter how much air she breathes in, it’s not enough, her lungs need more, so as her breathing comes faster, the string wraps tighter.

And with every pull of the taut string, she hears _them_ but the encouragement in their voices is muted down. The other voices are louder and mean and they rejoice.

She buries her face in her knees, hair fanning out in a protecting waterfall around her. She pulls at it, and rocks, and sobs, but the voices _won’t stop_.

And her breathing hastens.

“Where is she?” Stiles bursts through the door of the girls bathroom with Scott quick on his heels. The door bangs against the wall with a clang and a group of girls near jump away.

“Excuse me, this is the ladies room,” standing in front of the mirror, unaffected by the commotion and carefully reapplying her lipstick, this girl, Chloe he thinks her name is, smirks at him. Three of her friends giggle behind her, striking poses that he supposes are meant to make them look like an intimidating united front. They look ridiculous if you ask him.

“She’s here,” Kira calls. She’s crouching by the last stall, her bag and Lydia’s thrown carelessly around her. “She locked the door and she won’t come out.”

She moves away to leave room for Stiles, worrying her lips and without dragging her eyes from the stall door. Scott links their fingers together and she shoots him a quick, grateful smile before leaning against his side.

“Lydia?” Stiles’ voice is gentle and calm. His hands, by contrast, can’t stop moving. His fingers fiddle with the latch even though it can’t open from the outside, and his hands run up and down the laminated surface as if he could soothe the girl on the other side by doing so. “Lydia, can you please come out so I can help you?”

The sound of her rapid breathing echoes in the restroom and her sobs reach him like a pained noise. She can’t even cry properly if she can’t breathe. He bangs his head softly against the door, resting it there and shutting his eyes. “Please let me in. I can’t help you from here.”

“What a freak,” Chloe snickers behind him, eliciting a stream of giggles from her airheaded friends. “Can you believe Lydia Martin used to rule this school? She’s a nutjob.”

Stiles balls his fist, digging his short nails in his palm to resist the urge of punching the wall. He turns around, cold fury washing through him. He sees Scott stand up straighter, assuming a defensive stance and Kira reach for her bag out of the corner of his eye, their wary gazes trained on him.

He points to the door, glaring at Chloe. “Out.”

She snorts. “ _You_ don’t tell _me_ what to do.”

He’s at her in a flash, closing his fingers around her elbow. He hears Scott shout his name, but he needn’t worry. He’s not going to hurt her.

He marches her straight to the door. His grip on her is firm but he’s mindful of not holding her hard enough to bruise her. Once past the threshold he releases her to the throng of people in the hallway and stands stubbornly at the door glaring at the other girls to follow through. They do, without a word, and when they’re finally all gone, he shuts the door with as much delicacy as possible and moves back to Lydia’s stall.

“Would you mind making sure no one else comes in?” he asks Scott. His best friend has a weird look on his face a mix of relief and unease. “What?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, clearing the fog of memories. “Just –For a second there you kind of reminded me of someone else.”

“We’ll get the door,” Kira says quietly flashing him an apologizing smile.

They needn’t apologize really. The truth is, Void left a lot of himself in Stiles, and he knows it.

The door is still firmly locked and he doubts Lydia will snap out to open it. By the sound of it, her breathing has increased, coming in short puffs of air. If he doesn’t get to her now, she could pass out.

He inspects the latch, the hinges of the door, the free space between where it ends and the floor. It’s not big enough for him to slip under, and the walls are too high to climb although Scott could lift him…

His eyes snap back to the hinges. He remembers his dad telling him a couple of years back how all public buildings had gone through security renovations and improvements by ruling of the city council and one of the measures they implemented was new restroom stalls that could be lifted in case of emergency.

“Scott! Help me out here.”

Together, holding both ends of the door they lift it off its hinges and lower it to the ground. Stiles rushes to Lydia’s side, wrapping his arms around her and making shushing sounds. Scott takes his cue and exits the restroom with Kira, giving them some privacy.

“It’s okay Lydia,” he soothes. “Remember what you told me? Holding your breath can stop a panic attack, so I’m gonna need you to hold your breath for me. Can you do that?”

She shakes her head no, fingers wadding his shirt and pulling at him desperately.

“Shh it’s okay. Shhh.”

He moves her efficiently until she’s sitting sideways on his lap, brushing the hair from her tear-stained face. Her lovely lush lips are pushed into a grim line, holding her bobs inside, and her nostrils flare in an effort to bring air into her lungs. Her eyes, red rimed, are unfocused and can’t seem to maintain contact with his own. If he doesn’t do something now, she’s going to faint.

“Please let this work,” he whispers as he lowers his face to hers and smacks their lips together.

Lydia grows very still in his arms. He softens his mouth on hers, moving his lips carefully. He cups her face, stroking the apple of her cheek with his thumb.

After a few seconds, they move away and her green eyes find his. The haziness is gone.

Stiles licks his lips absentmindedly. “You held your breath.”

She smiles grimly, looks down and wipes a few tears of her eyes. “Thank you,” she gasps, her small body shaking.

“Any time,” he assures her, rubbing her back soothingly. “Wanna tell me what happened?”

Lydia takes a big calming breath, lets it out slowly, relishing o the heat of his palm on her back. “I got a C in history,” she admits.

Stiles doesn’t say anything, gives her space to continue. This is more than just about a less than stellar grade, he knows, but he’s not going to pressure her to talk.

“I totally forgot we had a test coming up. I didn’t study, I barely even read the material,” she shakes her head. “And my dad got a call from the Principal about my attendance record and he lost it,” her jaw tightens and she purses her lips. “I haven’t seen him in weeks, since before –before-”

He cuddles her closer, twining their fingers and squeezing her hand comfortingly.

“He drove all the way back from Sacramento just to yell at me. He didn’t even ask me why I skipped school, he doesn’t care. He kept going about how I’m not going to get into a good college if I keep behaving like a brat. That Harvard is never going to take me if I don’t apply myself _more_ , and I don’t even want to go to Harvard but he just dismisses every word out of my mouth and I–”

She swallows a fresh set of tears cascading from her eyes.

“I miss Allison.”

There it is. He holds her close as she breaks out in gut-wrenching sobs. He knows she hasn’t allowed herself to grieve properly. She’s been trying her best to keep it together, but Stiles knew she would eventually break under the pressure. Her best friend is gone and nothing is right. Not school, not her parents, nothing.

But she has them, _him_. And he will always be there for her, no matter what. Even if it means spending the rest of the day sitting in the restroom floor with her, holding her, talking to her, _listening_ to her and drying her tears while Scott and Kira take turns watching the door.


End file.
